Amanda Scott (32 page)

“We have never received his grace at Mute Hill House,” Malcolm admitted. “I’m told, though, that ’tis the cardinal who is
the most powerful man in Scotland.”

“I think perhaps his grace would disagree,” Anne said with a smile, “but doubtless his eminence believes as you do.”

When the party from Branxholme entered the house, she saw at once that Cardinal David Beaton knew his worth. Dressed in red
from head to toe, he led the way, looking as magnificent as he might have for an appearance at court. The trumpets were missing,
but Malcolm’s stentorian announcement of his entrance surely rivaled that of any court chamberlain.

Buccleuch walked a few steps behind Beaton, followed by a colorful retinue, including several ladies. Lady Scott was not one
of them, however, so it seemed that the rumor-mongers were right and she had returned to her parents’ home.

Olivia swept a deep curtsy as Beaton approached her, and kissed his ring when he held out his hand. Rising gracefully, she
included Buccleuch in her smiling gaze as she welcomed them to Mute Hill House.

“We are honored, your eminence. For you to come here … ” She paused, fluttering her lashes. “Indeed, sir, I am rendered speechless.”

He smiled, and Anne saw that he possessed great charm as well as an aura of great power. “I hope we do not inconvenience you,
Lady Carmichael, but we shall not stay long. I am on a pilgrimage, as it were, visiting great lords here in the Borders, gathering
their support to insure that we remain strong enough to keep the English out of Scotland. From here, I travel to Maxwell at
Caerlaverock, so you see, Mute Hill provides a comfortable place along the way to spend a night. Allow me to present some
of my companions. I’m told that you already know Buccleuch.”

“Indeed, yes,” Olivia said, turning to that gentleman. “Welcome, sir.”

Beaton went on to introduce other gentlemen in his train before he said casually, “I do not believe you know my cousin, Janet
Beaton, but I trust she will find a good friend in you, madam.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Welcome, Mistress Beaton,” Olivia said, staring at the handsomely fair young woman Beaton drew forth.

If Olivia looked amazed, Anne could not blame her. Buccleuch’s marriage was not officially ended yet, and yet here he was,
traveling in company with the woman who was apparently to be his next wife and expecting his hostess to welcome her—as indeed
she must since the woman was Davy Beaton’s cousin.

I
t soon became evident to everyone at Mute Hill House that the cardinal had a particular reason for including his cousin in
his entourage, and Anne and Fiona learned what it was when Olivia commanded them to attend her in her bedchamber after they
had finished dressing for supper.

“As you heard, his eminence desires to please his grace’s Border lords,” she said. “Eustace… that is, Sir Eustace tells me
Buccleuch can raise thousands of men in just a few days’ time, so neither the King nor his eminence wants to put him out of
temper just now when the royal need is so great.”

Anne and Fiona both nodded.

Buccleuch’s temper was said to rival that of the late Earl of Armadale, even to exceed it, and since he followed his own law,
as nearly all powerful Border lords did, ruling as absolute monarch of his own domain, it did not matter a whit to him who
claimed to be his king or the master of his kirk. Most Borderers were fickle about such matters, because they could see no
reason to bend a knee to the Pope far away in Rome or the King miles away at Stirling.

“The cardinal desires us to treat his cousin with extraordinary courtesy,” Olivia continued. “He means to expedite Buccleuch’s
divorce from Janet Kerr and open the way for him to marry Janet Beaton as soon as possible, but he fears some people might
disapprove and loudly voice that disapproval. Therefore, he hopes to forestall such a reaction by showing at once that the
finest people receive her.”

“But how can he show that?” Fiona asked. “I like Janet Kerr. I do not think Buccleuch should set her aside so easily. Surely,
many others will agree with me.”

“Whether they do or not, you must not speak so critically of any guest in our home,” Olivia said severely. “You are about
to bestow a signal honor upon Janet Beaton, my dear, so do not let me hear such hasty words from you again.”

“No, madam. I apologize.”

Anne said, “But what honor could Fiona bestow, Aunt Olivia?”

“It concerns you, too, Anne dear, for when his eminence suggested that perhaps Janet Beaton might serve as an attendant in
Fiona’s wedding, you may be sure that I instantly said she must serve as her chief attendant. I know you will not mind giving
up that position in such an excellent cause.”

“But I do not even know her,” Fiona protested. “Will not our friends stare to see her in Anne’s place?”

“All that matters is that it will please Buccleuch, whom we have no wish or cause to displease,” Olivia said with a stern
look.

“I don’t even know whom I’m going to marry,” Fiona said with a sigh. “I suppose I should not quibble about my chief attendant
being a total stranger.”

“Exactly so,” her mother said. “However, you will know your bridegroom by the time you go to bed tonight, for his eminence
has said we will discuss that matter directly after supper.”

His eminence having requested that the discussion take place in the hall, which was of a more convenient size to contain his
retinue than Olivia’s bower, everyone at the high table remained seated while Malcolm hustled his minions through their postprandial
duties, leaving trestles up to accommodate those of the cardinal’s people for whom the high table lacked seating.

Beaton occupied the central place there. When the household servants and others who were not expected to remain, or chose
not to, had departed, he said in a voice that easily carried to the back of the hall, “I had intended to hear from each person
concerned in this difficulty before making my decision. However, I’ve come to see that the road I must follow is plain.”

A murmur of comment filled the chamber, and as Beaton waited pointedly for it to cease, Anne glanced at Kit, who was intently
watching the cardinal. Beside her, Fiona stared into space as if the proceedings had nothing to do with her.

Eustace still looked supremely confident, as did Olivia.

Two places away from Anne, Berridge pared his nails with a knife someone had left on the table. He kept his hands below the
tabletop, but she could easily see what he was doing. He glanced her way and winked.

Nearly startled into a laugh, she looked quickly down at her own lap.

Other than a brief shuffling of feet, the chamber fell silent again.

Beaton said, “I warrant everyone in this room knows the quandary we face. Sir Christopher Chisholm, son of the late Laird
of Ashkirk and Torness, after disappearing for more than a year and being presumed dead, was officially declared so after
his father’s unfortunate demise. Before his disappearance, Sir Christopher was betrothed to Mistress Fiona Carmichael, and
as I understand the matter, those betrothal vows were exchanged by proxy. Is that not so, madam?”

Clearly taken aback when he turned abruptly to ask the question, Olivia recovered quickly. “Yes,” she said. “His father stood
proxy for him.”

Beaton nodded. “Then the answer is plain. Despite the official declaration of his death, the original betrothal must stand,
because the second one is rendered null and void by the obviously false declaration on which it was based. Mistress Fiona
must marry Sir Christopher, whose lands and titles will certainly be restored to him, since he is undeniably the rightful
heir and the true Laird of Ashkirk and Torness.”

A gasp sounded from somewhere to Anne’s right, but she could not at first discern the source. Then Eustace leaned forward
as if to see the cardinal more clearly, and the plain, raw fury he displayed gave him away.

For a moment, she thought he would protest aloud, but he did not, and she decided he must at least possess his fair share
of common sense. To argue with the man who spoke as the Pope in Scotland would be folly, if not madness.

Olivia, evidently oblivious to anything but the Cardinal’s words, said with a smile, “We would be honored, your eminence,
if you would condescend to perform the wedding ceremony.”

“That will be my pleasure, madam,” Beaton said, as if they had not already discussed the matter and decided upon such details
as Fiona’s chief attendant.

Olivia said, “Fiona, surely you must have something to say, my dear.”

Fiona looked as if her thoughts were miles away and the decision just announced had nothing whatsoever to do with her, and
she continued to gaze into the distance until Anne pinched her.

Starting, Fiona looked at her indignantly and said, “What?”

Anne flicked a pointed glance toward Olivia and Beaton.

Still visibly confused, Fiona looked hesitantly in that direction.

Sir Toby said with a laugh, “Wake up, child. Your future has just been decided for ye, and your fond mother would like ye
to thank his eminence.”

Confusion turned instantly to dismay as she fixed her attention upon her mother, saying, “I-I’m sorry, madam. I fear I was
not… That is, I—”

To everyone’s surprise, Beaton came to her rescue, saying with his charming smile, “One cannot doubt that this misunderstanding
has been a great trial to you, mistress. I warrant you must be relieved to have it resolved at last.”

“R-resolved? Oh, of course,” she stammered. “Thank you, your eminence.”

Kit nearly rolled his eyes. As if it were not infuriating enough to have his future decided for him so abruptly and without
the slightest query as to his wishes or beliefs, to have his intended wife behave like the simpleton he thought her did not
help. Or had the lass simply never been allowed to think for herself?

Lady Carmichael leaned close to Beaton, nodding as he murmured to her, but she caught Kit’s gaze and beamed fondly at him.
That she would welcome him as her son-in-law could not have been clearer. He gritted his teeth.

He saw then that Lady Anne was also watching him and strove to keep his countenance from revealing his anger even to her.
Revealing that anger to anyone would do him no good if the law decreed that the earlier betrothal must stand. He could scarcely
rail against the law when it stood against him and then demand its support to regain his title and estates. His frustration
was nearly overwhelming, however, and Anne was perceptive. He feared she could easily discern all he felt.

Just catching her eye and seeing her concern stirred tension in his loins even as it encouraged him to control his temper.
Fiona was the loveliest girl he had ever clapped eyes on, but she did not hold a candle to her cousin when it came to feminine
allure. All Anne Ellyson had to do was look at him. Indeed, even that was unnecessary. If she walked away, the desire to follow
her was overwhelming.

When Tam caught his eye just then and winked, Kit’s jaw tightened. That one of his best friends found amusement in the lamentable
business was infuriating, too. Willie, on the other hand, doubtless counting himself amongst the servants, had left the hall
when they did. Kit only wished he might have joined them.

Beaton cleared his throat and the hall fell silent again.

“I have been conferring with her ladyship,” he said, “and we have decided the ceremony will take place tomorrow morning at
ten o’clock. Although we must not linger longer at Mute Hill, and therefore Mistress Carmichael may find herself with fewer
guests than she hoped,” he added, smiling at Fiona, who gazed blankly back at him, “we will do our best to make the occasion
a memorable one for her.”

Kit wished he could see his uncle’s face, but they sat at opposite ends of the table on the same side, and he could see only
Eustace’s clenched hands on the table. Clearly, from the way they kept tightening, he was angry, too.

The only satisfaction as far as Kit was concerned was Beaton’s assurance that the titles and estates would be restored to
him, but he doubted Eustace would submit tamely to that decision or any other. More likely, he would continue to cause trouble
any way he could even after the wedding.

It occurred to him then to wonder how his eminence thought a man who was still officially dead could legally marry, but apparently
that was a minor detail to everyone but Kit himself. Perhaps, he decided, the Pope in Scotland believed he also called the
tune in secular law. In any event, Kit doubted that any mere magistrate would dare to oppose Davy Beaton.

Anne wished she were privy to Kit’s thoughts. He looked much as his uncle did, as if he were ripe for murder.

Fiona whispered, “Can we go now, Anne?”

“I think your mother will object if we ask to leave before his eminence does,” Anne said tactfully, knowing the threat of
Olivia’s displeasure was usually sufficient to stifle any desire Fiona expressed to run counter to her wishes.

To her surprise, however, Fiona said, “But I want to go upstairs. I have the most awful headache. It’s just pounding behind
my eyes, Anne. Please!”

“Very well, I’ll speak to her,” Anne said, pushing back her stool to stand.

To her surprise, Berridge stood and moved to assist her. “Are you ill, Lady Anne?” he asked quietly as he put a firm hand
under her elbow.

“No, my lord, but my cousin is suffering from a bad headache,” she said, surprised by his concern. “She desires to retire
to her chamber, so I mean to ask my aunt and his eminence to excuse her.”

“An excellent notion,” he said. “You will go upstairs with her, of course.”

“Yes, my lord, certainly.”

“What is it, Anne?” Olivia asked sharply.

Curtsying, Anne said, “Forgive me, madam, but Fiona has developed a headache and I believe she should retire before it worsens.”

Olivia frowned, but Beaton said, “By all means, Lady Anne, take her up to her bedchamber and see that she is made comfortable.
A lass needs rest to look her best, you know. She must not have dark circles under her eyes on her wedding day.”